83AUGUST / SEPTEMBER 2019 – DESTINASIAN.COMproviding the only competition for the
lapping waves and rustling palms. The Mal-
dives’ architecturally unique coral-stone
mosques, with their delicate carvings and
lacquered interiors, are perhaps the coun-
try’s best-kept secret. As for what came be-
fore Islam, numerous crumbling Buddhist
stupas testify to the faith of earlier settlers,
while curious stone idols unearthed just a
few years ago by amateur archaeologists
offer rare glimpses into the lives of the
mysterious first inhabitants. Having visited
islands now reduced to just a few dozen
people, islands abandoned in recent years,
and even islands that have disappeared
altogether, I find it impossible to shake
the feeling that the stories we dig up may
feature some of the atolls’ last inhabitants.
After returning to our home base beneath the equator follow-
ing our first fruitful voyage, it would be more than a year before we
would resume our journey, finally returning to Laamu—the next
link up the island chain—late last year. After touring the eastern and
western isles of this pear-shaped atoll, known locally as Hadhdhun-
mathi, we had already seen historic mosques, an almost-forgotten
natural peat bath, and even visited the set of the recent Star Wars
spinoff Rogue One, when the ferry brought us back past the resort
island of Olhuveli—now better known as Six Senses Laamu. Finally,
we would get to meet the neighbors who’d first planted the seed
of wanderlust from which our passion project had bloomed. The is-
lands of Hithadhoo and Maamendhoo were certainly worth the wait.
Hithadhoo and its inhabitants provided more rich stories of ban-
ishment to faraway atolls, sea monsters, castaways, and black magic
(fanditha), while the sleepy island’s ziyaaraiy—a shrine believed to
be linked to the country’s Sufi Muslim past—was perhaps the most
impressive we’d seen so far. Nearby, a flawless stretch of mangroves
perfectly exemplified the precious Maldivian environment, upon
whose preservation society depends. Across the water on Maamend-
hoo, we found a tightly packed fishing village whose rutted streets
were ringed with racks of sunbathing kandu mas (skipjack tuna) and
local ladies producing fantastic tuna-coconut feasts. As the women
cooked and the fish dried, young boys swam across to an uninhab-
ited isle opposite, performing somersaults from its crumbling jetty
into the enticing azure of the calm channel.
As Naj snapped pictures of another cook stirring spices over an
open wood fire, I spotted the Six Senses’ overwater villas once again
through the smoke drifting up past the shading palms. My eyes
didn’t linger there for long. I couldn’t check my biomarkers on Maa-
mendhoo, but I didn’t feel the need to; nor could I complain about
the local hospitality, which was as warm and gracious as at any five-
star hotel. There can be no doubt that the Maldives’ luxury resorts
have transformed the economic fortunes of a little fishing nation,
but the country’s real luxuries remain elsewhere.
Naj and I are now just a few leagues into our island odyssey, and
our plan is to continue sailing through the atolls, counting every is-
land and every story as we go. We can only hope that it’s many, many
years before we stop asking ourselves: “What’s on the next island?”